


Stolen Afternoons

by kateyboosh, starsonthebrow



Category: The Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: Banter, Chance Meeting, Dark horse Julian, Happy Ending, Intimacy, M/M, Pining Noel, Present day Noelian, Romance, Soft Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:47:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27068134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateyboosh/pseuds/kateyboosh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsonthebrow/pseuds/starsonthebrow
Summary: “Noel suddenly feels a need to do something with his hands. Anything. He is just about to ask if Julian wants him to put on a kettle for tea when Julian interrupts his thoughts.‘Tell me about this one?’”A chance meeting leads to a stolen afternoon. Noelian in the present day.
Relationships: Julian Barratt/Noel Fielding
Comments: 15
Kudos: 20





	Stolen Afternoons

Noel shifts his carrier bags from one hand to the other. He adjusts his backpack strap and pushes his phone down in his jeans pocket where it’s trying to escape. He pats the outer pocket of his coat, hoping he hasn’t forgotten the keys to his studio. It’s cold and damp this afternoon, the breeze more like a wind, just on the edge of biting at his fingers and the tip of his nose. 

He’s always surprised at how light individual tubes of paint are, all the potential within, all the color that mixes to create worlds contained in a few ounces. He’s always surprised at how heavy they are together when they’re slung into a carrier bag and he has to carry them, on foot, from the art supply shop back to his studio.

He’s just about to set the bags down and rearrange, and make sure he has his keys, when he spots him.

Noel would know the shape of him, the gait of his walk and the swing of his arms from a mile away. He continues walking in his direction until he sees recognition slide over the other man’s face. When he’s close enough, unable to keep the smile out of his voice, he calls out with an “Alright, old man?” 

Julian smiles that small grin that crinkles around his eyes. He’s wrapped in a warm tweed coat and scarf and his salt & pepper hair is windswept. He makes a show of looking around him and then answers back, “Sorry, are you talking to me?” 

Noel feels a tug at his heart and would roll his eyes at himself, but he’s too happy to consider it. He wants to pull Julian in for a hug but his bags leave him awkward. Instead he shakes his head to move the hair out of his eyes and smiles up at him. Julian nods toward the bags, “A bit of light shopping?”

They used to greet each other without pleasantries. Instead they would just launch into excited lines or blurt out sentences without context for anyone else around them; a fix to a bit of script they couldn’t hammer out the previous night, something from two weeks ago that had made the other laugh to tears, a continuation of conversation as if there had been no time apart. Noel is never sure how to start things off first now. 

He says the first thing that comes to mind. “Yeah, only meant to pick up a couple of tubes, but they had a sale on blue, and…” 

He trails off, opening one of the bags and then the other, letting Julian lean closer to peer in. He wiggles his elbow so the third bag he has in the crook of his arm slides open. 

Julian chuckles. “Always was your favorite color. I hope you left some for the latecomers.”

Noel grins, ducking his head to hide his delight as he wiggles to rebalance his bags. “What about you?”

Julian plucks at the headphones around his neck and lifts the strap of his leather bag off of his chest. “Working.” He clears his throat. “Been at that little coffee place around the corner. You know the one?” He waits for Noel to look up, to stop fidgeting with his bags, to nod. He’d walked past it on his way to the studio, about two minutes before he’d spotted Julian on the street. “Been sitting there for the past three hours working. Well. Trying to work. Trying and failing.”

Noel makes a little noise of sympathy and nearly dumps an entire bag of blues onto the street in the process. “Here,” Julian says, reaching for the heaviest. “You headed to-” 

“The studio,” Noel says. “If I remembered to bring the keys,” he adds as an afterthought, fishing in his coat pocket. 

“Come on, then,” Julian responds, hefting the carrier bag. “Might as well be useful somehow today.”

Noel is relieved when he finds his key tucked away when they get to the studio. They drop the bags at the door and he goes to fiddle with the heat as Julian unwraps his scarf and walks around taking it all in. It's been a while since he’s been here. It’s an ever changing space, much like Noel’s mind. His to alter at will depending on his mood. Julian’s never been bothered by the chaos of Noel’s studio.

Noel finds himself nervous as he watches Julian stop to focus on his work. He stands biting at his finger wanting to blurt out stories about every piece. He has so much to just say to him, but instead of hovering he tries to busy himself moving some canvases around and clearing some space for them to sit. 

His eyes are drawn to the other man though. He glances in Julian’s direction repeatedly as Julian walks quietly around, touching his mustache and running a hand through his hair. Noel watches as he softly reaches out as if to feel one of the paintings, but pulls back before he touches. 

Noel suddenly feels a need to do something with his hands. Anything. He is just about to ask if Julian wants him to put on a kettle for tea when Julian interrupts his thoughts.

“Tell me about this one?” 

He’s standing in front of a large canvas of floating oval faces of different colors and expressions; close to a hundred of them dotted across the sizable canvas, peering out as if waiting for the next punchline to be delivered. _The Audience_. He’s had it set out for a while; just hasn’t felt ready to stack it away quite yet. Abnormal for him, since typically he’s ready to move on quickly after he’s finished a piece. 

Noel lopes over, hand in his hair. He gestures at the painting, at the little faces staring back at the two of them. “Surprised you don’t recognize it.” 

Julian muses for a moment. “I do. I meant, why are you painting them now?” 

Noel hesitates. Painting works well for him now, using spare mornings or afternoons at the studio. It’s a channel for his creativity that lets him go home at the end of the day. Still, he’s lying if he says he doesn’t miss it, doesn’t miss the energy of a crowd, doesn’t miss winning them over and earning their trust and taking them on a journey, telling them a story and making them laugh at the same time. 

He scrapes a hand through his hair again. “I miss it, I suppose,” he says, running his toe over an island of wood flooring that shows through the ocean of splattered paint on the studio floor. 

“Mmm,” Julian responds, still studying the bright colors of the canvas. He points to a smiling face at the center of the piece, yellow and happy. “I miss this guy.” He swings his finger to a larger face, green and frowning. “This one, not so much. I find him atrocious.”

Noel cackles. He scoots closer, his boots sliding across the sea of blues that have dried on the studio floor. He leans his head on Julian’s shoulder and points to a tiny red face, expression neutral. “He finds you very average, sir.”

He feels his heart lift a little when Julian’s shoulder shakes with a chuckle.

He watches intently as again Julian lifts his hand and instead of hesitating, emboldened, traces along a line of long dried red paint. His finger drags along the path that Noel had left behind with his own. It feels so intimate Noel shivers as if he’s tracing it along his own skin. 

“You’re meant to be doing this right now. It’s really great work.” He says, still letting his fingers linger over the canvas. 

Noel lifts his head, has to move and shuffle and fidget. Waking up this morning and trudging to the supply store he had never anticipated standing here close enough to smell Julian’s cologne while he compliments his art. It has all happened so fast he’s not been able to put himself together properly to stay composed. His heart feels full and his head funny as if he’s been drinking. 

He wraps an arm around himself and plays with his hair as Julian crouches to look at a canvas leaned against the wall. Noel’s mood dips just a fraction. He’s not happy with that one, feels like he kept going when he should’ve called it finished. He lets out a sigh. “Fiddled a bit too much with that one, I’m afraid. Shouldn’t have added that extra color there.” He points to the bottom half of the canvas vaguely. 

Julian furrows his brow, squints, and then tilts the canvas just enough to change the perspective. “Seems salvageable to me.” He hums. He studies it a bit longer and says, “If anyone can fix it, you can.” 

Julian looks up to meet his eyes and Noel finds himself speechless. No one is ever as supportive as Julian when he needs it. Or maybe it’s just that Julian’s support always feels weighted as more important than anyone else’s. 

Julian stands. Before Noel knows what’s happened, he’s pressed to Julian’s chest, the scruff of his neck and jaw ticklish over Noel’s cheek, his hand resting at the small of Noel’s back. “Proud of you,” Julian murmurs into the top of his head. 

Twenty minutes ago, Noel had been ready to cover his hands with paint and feel the weave of the canvas under his fingertips. Now, he sinks them into Julian’s shoulders, clinging to him in the hug he’s been waiting for since they had their chance meeting on the street. He rests his head on Julian’s chest, tucks himself into his shoulder, squeezes his arms tight around his ribs. 

“Thanks, Ju,” he whispers, leaning into him. He closes his eyes, wanting to fix this moment in his memory; the warmth and feel of Julian’s body, solid against his, the sound of his heart beating, muffled through layers of tweed and wool. The sound of his own heartbeat pulsing in his ears.

Julian pats his back all too soon. He opens his eyes and swallows and pulls back, ready to steady himself, make a joke, make some tea, anything he can do to compose himself. 

Julian catches him by the arm before Noel can move any further out of his orbit, out of the pull of his familiar, safe Julian-ness. 

“Hey,” he says. “I am. I want you to know.” 

The lines around his eyes crinkle when he smiles. He cups the side of Noel’s face and leans down to kiss him. 

Noel nearly gasps into Julian’s mouth. He puts a hand on Julian’s face, tentative, afraid that he’s misinterpreted or dared to hope that this is more than just a friendly kiss. Julian’s other hand falls to the small of his back, guiding him forward, until they’re pressed close together again. 

When they break the kiss, Noel’s smiling against Julian’s lips. Julian’s smiling back.

They hover like this for a bit, just leaning into each other, noses touching, lips ghosting, nuzzling as if trying to center themselves together. It’s like this every time, so easily falling into one another, back into the familiar way they fit into each other; Julian’s hand sliding along Noel’s back, the other weaving through his hair, and Noel anchoring himself to Julian with a hand on the back of his neck. 

Noel tilts his head and they kiss again, so soft at first that Noel lets out a little whimper when Julian coaxes his mouth open to slide their tongues together. Julian is cupping his face with both hands now, more insistent as their mouths move together. 

Noel wants so much; wants and needs everything Julian has to give him any time. He’s never sure where these meetings might end up. He’s just happy that Julian wants to kiss him thoroughly right now in this moment and he won’t try to think about it any further. 

They break as they start to run out of breath and Julian, seeming to read Noel’s mind, whispers, “This is okay, right?” He’s nearly panting, trying and failing to remain calm. He is always so measured. Even after all these years and the countless times they’ve been together Noel always gets a thrill when he sees him undone like this. He continues, kissing at Noel’s jaw, his voice husky, “...That I want you so much right now?” 

Noel wants to reassure him it is always okay, but he can’t do anything but nod against him and try to get his fingers to work the buttons on Julian’s coat. 

Julian helps him along, his warm hands starting at the top, shrugging the coat off his shoulders once it’s loose. Noel tosses it onto a chair without looking, spreading his arms wide when Julian starts to fumble with the closures on his coat. They’re easy enough to hook putting the coat on, but harder to find in the plush red shag. Noel moves his hips forward and sticks out his chest, craving Julian’s touch, his fingers splaying against the material. He dives in when Julian pauses, finding the first hooks without a problem, working the coat open quickly. 

Julian changes course, sweeping Noel’s hair behind his ear to kiss along his sideburn. He noses at Noel’s ear as he lets the coat fall behind him to the floor. “Ju,” he breathes, fingers twisting in the sleeve of his cardigan. He finds Julian’s hand and tugs him toward the sofa, the heels of his boots clacking on the floor.

Julian lets himself be pushed back onto the worn sofa, dots and slashes of paint staining the fabric. His hands are everywhere on Noel’s body, sliding up his jeans-clad thighs, slipping under the hem of his t-shirt to touch his bare skin for a moment before pulling away to lift the bottom of his jumper up. 

He lets Julian help him out of it, dropping it on the floor next to them. Julian lifts the hem of his t-shirt next, his mouth falling onto Noel’s stomach, his ribs, the center of his chest. “Ju, wait,” he gasps, inhaling sharply as the heat of Julian’s lips against his skin is replaced by the cotton of his shirt. 

He trips unsteadily over to a box at the end of the sofa, full of tubes of paint, and digs for a moment. He comes out with a paint-stained tube of lube.

Julian’s got his cardigan piled on top of Noel’s jumper on the floor and when Noel turns back, he’s working his buttondown past his wrists. Julian stops, eyes full of mirth. It spills over into his voice.

“Do you always keep your sex accessories in with your painting supplies?”

“My ‘sex accessories?’” Noel responds. He grins back. “Yeah. All my most important materials together.” He tosses the lube in between Julian’s spread legs and flexes his hands at him. “These are my most important painting accessories.” He can feel the mischief in the purse of his lips as he fits his hands on his waist. “Second most important sex accessory, though, compared to this,” he smirks, jutting his hips forward so the outline of his cock is more apparent against his already-straining zip. 

Julian reaches out for him, taking him by the hips when he’s close enough, looking up with a grin and a raised eyebrow. “I don’t know if I’d say second most important.” He tugs Noel down by his shirt to kiss him and lets his other hand slide over the taut denim stretching across his arse. “Perhaps a tie.” 

Noel chuckles against his lips, “Always the ass man.” 

Julian shrugs. “You’ve always had a nice one.” His grin is wolfish as he squeezes at Noel’s behind. 

Noel pushes back against his hand playfully while he tugs his t-shirt off. Julian’s hands immediately direct their attention to his stomach and up along his ribs, dragging his fingers over his nipples as Noel moans and works his drainpipes off. He wants Julian’s hands on him, wants to kiss him, wants them both naked immediately. There’s not enough hands and mouths to achieve it all in the pace he wants. 

Julian lets out a little intake of breath when Noel yanks his jeans down and his cock immediately springs free. “Mmm, laundry day then?” he says, smiling as he tugs Noel forward to suck at his stomach, lick along a hip bone. 

He pulls at him to get him on his lap, but Noel stops. 

“Get them trousers off.” 

Julian unzips and unbuttons and lifts his hips off the sofa, toeing his boots off into the pile of clothing growing between them on the floor. His socks and trousers and pants are interspersed with Noel’s as he peels his jeans the rest of the way down his calves and unzips his pointed boots. A mismatched sock crowns the top of the pile as Noel crawls into Julian’s lap, ducking his head into Julian’s neck to breathe him in as their bare skin meets. 

Noel shivers as Julian runs a finger over his thigh, sweeping his hands up over the curve of Noel’s arse. He melts into Julian’s body when he hears him fumbling on the sofa and uncapping the lube. He wiggles and spreads his legs, leaning into Julian’s chest at the first touch of his slick fingers to his hole. 

The need between them, the ache to be together, is still the same, but this afternoon is different. There used to be nights that Julian teased him, nights where he touched him and kissed him all over, nights where he made Noel come twice before he slid into him, Noel groaning in anticipation, begging Julian to fill him. Julian would make him wait. They had all the time in the world, then, all the time in their world.

These stolen afternoons are different. Julian’s still as thorough in his touches and his deep, long kisses, but after time spent apart, he needs Noel just as badly as Noel needed him when they were younger. Noel’s still as eager to be with him, but he cherishes every kiss and every touch now. He loves the build toward them moving together, entwined with Julian’s arms around him, his hips rocking into Noel.

Noel moans as Julian smooths his fingertip over his prostate. He scissors his fingers one last time and then slips free, kissing Noel’s temple, murmuring into his skin, “Think you’re ready now.” Noel hums his agreement, reaching for the lube and slicking Julian’s cock. He feels so good in Noel’s palm, he can’t help but give Julian a few slow, smooth pumps, leaning in to kiss him. 

“Beautiful,” Julian says, voice low and creamy against his lips.

The both groan into each other’s mouths when Julian slides inside, joining them together. Noel breaks from Julian’s lips and sighs, eye closed, just focusing on the feeling of Julian filling him. Julian kisses at his face, runs a hand along his spine, soothing, calming. He whispers things in his ear that Noel always remembers far longer than the sex. 

Noel’s body shakes as he starts to move, lifting himself to lower back and take Julian in, building a rhythm. He holds Julian’s face in his hands; wills him, _keep looking at me_ , _open your eyes_. Julian does, moaning as they gaze at each other, at the feeling of Noel’s body around his cock. They’re both so wound up, coiled like springs, the intensity so heavy between them. They kiss weakly, mouths just touching, focusing on moving together.

Julian has a hand on the back of Noel’s neck, holding them together as he moves in Julian’s lap. He runs his other hand down his bare torso, fingers gliding over his smooth skin. His fingers rest on Noel’s hip as he leans to kiss him with a little more force, more intensity. 

When he pulls back, his eyes are soft, hazy with lust and something else. “Noel,” he breathes, and Noel feels electricity shoot to every one of his extremities when Julian touches his thigh with the same delicacy he touched his painting. “Tell me. Tell me what you were thinking when you painted it,” he asks again, his hand leaving Noel’s skin, hovering over his aching cock.

Noel moves forward and kisses him hard and deep, his hands on either side of Julian’s face. “You,” he gasps out, almost as an afterthought. “It’s you. Always you.” In form, as a minotaur; in shape, secret hearts that he paints with his fingertips; in emotion, swirls of colors in reds and blues. He moans Julian’s name when he takes Noel in hand, the muscle in his thighs twitching. 

Julian hums into his mouth, kissing him deep, his fist working Noel’s cock at the same pace Noel’s rocking in his lap. “I can’t write. I just find myself writing dialogue for us.” He inhales sharply and clenches his jaw, his other hand skating up Noel’s spine, clutching at his neck until Noel leans down and presses their foreheads together. “I saw you walking past outside the cafe today and I waited til you were around the corner and I left.” He gulps a breath, his voice low and flooded with emotion. “Noel, I can’t do it for anyone else any more.” 

Noel whines, whines his name, whines _please_ and _don’t stop_ and _I love you, Julian_ , over and over, melting when Julian echoes it back.

They can always write _this_ dialogue together. They know just how it goes, Julian touching Noel so right, Noel kissing him so deeply until they meet in the middle.

When Noel’s movements around Julian start to become erratic and the pressure is nearly at the breaking point, Julian shifts and pulls Noel against him, scooping the smaller man up, still so easily, like the first time they made love all those years ago. He lies them down across the couch and drapes himself over Noel, both of them meeting in the middle, frantic for mouths to join again. 

Noel clings to Julian’s back and matches his moans as his hips move in earnest, thrusting so deep. Noel threads a hand through his curls and brings him up to meet his eyes. “Ju,” he moans, struggling to focus, “Look at me.” Julian’s deep brown eyes are hazy with pleasure and adoration; so open and honest that Noel’s heart flutters. 

He feels so complete in this moment, joined and moving together. After falling apart slowly in the absence Julian leaves when they are separated he feels like he’s being put back together. Whole again. 

He exhales sharply as Julian reaches between them to wrap a hand around his leaking cock. He leans into the touch, pushing his hips up into Julian’s hand, trying to stay in time with his thrusts. He breathes Julian’s name, his hand coming up to trace over his parted lips. Noel wants to kiss him as badly as he wants to watch his face; he’s so beautiful when he’s like this, his features soft in the fading light. 

When he’s close, right on the edge, he moans, fingers digging into the back of Julian’s neck. Julian knows just by the sound of his voice and the sudden tightening of his body. He always knows exactly what Noel needs. Julian’s eyes don’t leave his.

Noel bucks his hips up and lets his mouth fall open when he comes, panting as he spills over Julian’s fingers. The relief that floods through him is overwhelming, Julian bringing him through it, never slowing his thrusts. He rubs his fingers weakly over the back of Julian’s neck, breathing out his name, calling him, their eyes still locked together.

When he’s in the shallows of his orgasm, his fingers slip to the scruff of Julian’s jaw, the hollow of his cheek, the laugh lines crossing under his eye. He’ll think of Julian’s face the next time he puts paint on a canvas, remember him just as he is, so close like this. Noel tightens around him, his hand drifting down to rest on Julian’s chest, fingers splayed, pressing into his warm skin. He always knows exactly what Julian needs. He works from the expression in Julian’s eyes.

“Ju,” he breathes, “I love you.” He loses count of how many times he murmurs it as Julian inhales sharply and squeezes his eyes shut and comes. When his thrusts weaken, Noel slides his hands over Julian’s back, drawing him down to rest on his chest.

Noel continues to rub little circles into his back, just soothing him as Julian nestles himself into his neck. As his breathing starts to even he fingers through the strands of Noel’s hair that curl at his throat, so softly. 

He lets out a little breath, part sigh part laugh. “Remember when your hair was this long before. Saw you passing by today and just…” Julian twists a lock around his finger, lets it fall. “It’s nice isn’t it.” Noel bites his lip around a smile. He’s usually quick to dismiss or downplay a compliment, but he’ll let this one slide. He’ll take this one. He leans and softly places a kiss on Julian’s forehead.

They lie together quietly, returning to themselves, softly touching while the afternoon sun shifts in the studio around them. Noel senses the time with dread; it’ll be getting late and they both have things to return to. The endings of these unplanned days together are always the hardest, creeping up every time to finish as suddenly as they begin. They start to dress and Julian laughs as he sorts through the mess of clothing scattered. Noel chuckles when he gets a slap on the arse as he bends to pick up a sock. 

“Let me make you a cup of coffee at least before you go?” Noel says, always hoping to stall, to prolong. Julian seems okay with that today. “Yeah, let’s have a cup. I’ve got some time.” 

Noel ducks into the small, relatively uncluttered area where he keeps the coffee maker. He hates to let Julian out of his sight when he has him; still, he’ll do it if it means they get ten extra minutes together. “Same as usual?” he calls back. Julian can hear the smirk in his voice. “Six sugars or seven?”

“Make it eight. Ten,” he deadpans back, straightening the sleeves of his cardigan. “Three more than whatever you’re having.” 

Noel cackles, his giddy laugh drifting up to the ceiling, over his canvases. Julian laces his boots and fishes the tube of lube out from between the sofa cushions where it’s poking into his back. He tosses it in the box Noel plucked it from and leans back on the sofa. Frowning, he reaches behind him and brings out a small blank sketchpad, the pages crinkled from where it’s slipped down the side. 

He smooths out the worst of the creases, his fingers tracing over them like following lines on a road map. Julian smiles. Noel always was shit at navigation. He didn’t mind, though. They’d pull over to the side of the road and he’d flip the map right side up and Noel would blush and toe at the floor mats before Julian kissed him and turned the car around.

Julian blinks himself out of the memory and pulls a pen out of his pocket, inking over the deepest lines in the wrinkled paper. They intersect and pull away and draw back together, a loose circle. A planet. A world. 

He smooths down a sharp crease in the center and then he’s drawn two faces there before he can stop himself, tiny caricatures. Their features are softer and more lined, but instantly recognizable. 

Julian hears the click of Noel’s boots crossing the paint-stained floor and caps his pen. He flips the sketchbook shut and stashes it back between the cushion and the arm of the sofa, peeking out, and returns Noel’s smile when he comes back into the room. 

When Julian finishes his coffee and buttons his coat and leaves, Noel pushes the door to his studio shut softly, his eyes still closed, feeling the press of Julian’s lips against his before he said goodbye and headed out onto the street. He reaches for his phone to check the time: not enough to start on any new paintings, enough to tidy up or put his new purchases away before heading home.

He wanders back inside and sits down on the sofa instead, tucking his legs underneath him, resting his head on the arm. He wiggles to get comfortable and then sits up. 

There’s already a little smile playing around the corners of his lips when he finds the sketchpad. He opens it and flips through; it’s blank except for one page. 

His own voice whispers through his head. _“I miss it, I suppose.”_

Another voice cuts through, overlays, deeper. _“Seems salvageable to me. If anyone can fix it, you can.”_

Noel beams. He runs his fingers in a circle around their faces, around their world.

He’ll call Julian in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Noel’s appearance on TalkArt and our love of mature Noelian inspired us to write this over a few weekends while editing [I'm Your Boy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26684938/chapters/65087680). After we’d finished writing, Noel telling Jimmy Carr that he and (classic) Julian wanted to do live stuff in the future was an added bonus.


End file.
